Day 80 – The Living Painting
Day miles: 26.6
Trip miles: 1597.6
I was pretty sure I was going to skip the Knapsack Col alternate when I went to bed last night. I was 100% sure when I woke up. I have started to be able to read clouds fairly well, depending on how they look, how much they have developed, and what time of day it is. I suppose that’s one benefit of having some many pop-up storms on this trip. I looked up at the sky and there were more clouds than usual, including a stretch of stratus clouds that made me feel like it might even storm before 1pm.
The Knapsack Col alternate would take me back up over 12,000 feet, an elevation that I left behind in Colorado for good as far as the official CDT route is concerned. I knew I wouldn’t be be able to finish its 13 or so miles in the morning. I had heard that there was a bit of route finding and definitely some climbing. The Cirque of the Towers alternate had been somewhat slow going for me. So, I nixed it and committed to hiking the regular CDT route.
I was a little disappointed. I heard there were stunning views at Knapsack Col, which itself is the pass over 12,000 feet. Prior to that, the route ascends past lakes as it climbs in elevation, and offers views of several glaciers along the way, which is what I really wanted to see. But, a thru-hike is a thru-hike and requires that I be flexible to keep that forward momentum. If I wanted to make it to Canada before snow blocks the way, I needed to keep moving. I knew I could always come back to the winds for a week of further exploration at some point. So, I packed up my wet tent (condensation, not rain) and started north on the CDT.
The regular CDT route did not disappoint! It was full of beautiful scenery – those iconic granite mountains, beautiful lakes and creeks, and even a few distant waterfalls. The hiking wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t too hard either, so I was able to keep a respectable pace even though I was tired and hungry.
I passed two CDT hikers from France – Frenchman and Sommelier. It caused me to fantasize about baguettes and brie for about 30 minutes. They had been camped by the lake below my campsite last night, and had the campfire. Sommelier was taking a smoke break. I’ll never understand how someone can smoke and hike, but I almost wanted to ask for a cigarette so that I could hold it in my mouth like incense to keep the mosquitoes at bay. They kept flying into my face like kamikaze pilots, despite the layer of 100% feet I had applied.
I laid out my gear to dry on a rock in the sun, and chatted with a kid who was out with his extended family for a few days of hiking. They passed by and he came over, wanting to ask me about my gear. It was a fun conversation. He was pretty young – I’d guess 16, maybe 17. I thought it was pretty cool that his uncle had dragged a gaggle of boys that looked to be between 6 and 17 out there. I think there were six kids with the uncle. That’s a lot to handle!
I kept cruising along throughout the day until I got to one very long and flat valley-pass that ultimately led me out of the Winds. It was a beautiful meadow full of wildflowers and lined with granite mountains on both sides, a final homage to the range that had delighted my eyes for days.
While walking, I came upon a backpacker sitting and eating by the trail. I said hello, and he answered in kind. As I walked away he then asked, “Hey, when am I going to see something?”
I was confused by this question, wondering if he was looking for some specific mountain or lake. “What do you mean?” I asked. He then said that had had been walking in the valley and pass forever and wanted to know when he would see something else. I don’t know why, but this instantly ticked me off royally. I felt like saying “open your eyes – you’re in a meadow full of wildflowers surrounded by white granite mountains! Most people don’t have the privilege of getting to see this magical place you miserable prick!” But, I realized it wasn’t worth it, and he probably didn’t mean for his comment to come out as it sounded. There have been many days when I have probably sounded tired while surrounded by beauty. So, I just said “soon” and hiked on.
It’s funny how sometimes little things like that get under my skin. I still can’t believe I am out here getting to do this, but at the same time I wish more people had t he opportunity and interest in seeing these beautiful places. Sometimes it blows my mind when people don’t show interest or appreciate the natural world. And then of course that gets reflected in policies that take no interest in protecting our environment, which is crazy because our environment should be EVERYTHING to us. We literally live in it. Anyway, I won’t go off on too much of a tyrade, but it took me a bit to recenter myself after I let this guy get under my skin.
Fortunately, the Winds make it easy to recalibrate. I descended down from the pass along switchbacks until I was at the Green River and out of the Wind River range. I quickly saw my first snake since New Mexico! It was just a little garter-looking snake lying across the trail, but it had indeed been a while since I had seen one.
The Green River was, in fact, green! There are many rivers that go by this name in the US, including one that I have kayaked in North Carolina. This is the first that I have seen that was actually green, though I could only tell because I had polarized sunglasses on. It was beautiful, and I don’t know what gave it its hue. There was a lot of green marbling in the granite of the Winds, so perhaps that had something to do with it.
I walked along the river and through the valley for quite some time, all the way until it slowed its pace, widened, and transformed into Lower Green River Lake. There were ducks out on the lake, and a few people paddling canoes. It was quiet and I walked along for a while, just thinking about nothing really.
I don’t know why, but at some point I decided to turn around, and when I did, I realized what those ducks, those paddlers were looking at. It was one of the most surreal, beautiful backdrops I have ever seen. It didn’t feel real. It was so calm and idyllic, so picture perfect, it almost made me wonder if I had died. Could something so pure still exist in this shadowed world we have created? Apparently so, for I was staring at it just as one might stare into a Monet. This was different, however – I was living in it – living in this painting.
I don’t know why this one scene in particular moved me so, but it did. Behind the lake was a backdrop of mountains, one of which was Flattop Mountain by name. The group of mountains was perfectly reflected on the surface of the lake. Had I not been grounded as I was and a believer in gravity, I could have wondered if I was, in fact, floating upside down, meant to stand tall on the sky and the clouds.
I’m not sure if those moments were real, if that place was real. What is “real,” but a feeling anyway? All I know is, at that moment in time it was perfectly beautiful. That said, I felt like I was in a painting, because it was quietly devoid of the sounds and voices that currently make up my life. My wife, my family – none of those sounds were there. I didn’t recognize the birdsong; I couldn’t hear the ducks. I was able to enjoy the beauty, but only through some kind of metaphysical window in time, where I was allowed to be there, to take it all in. I could live in the painting for a moment and appreciate it for what it was, it I wasn’t meant to be there for more than this moment, and for some reason, that felt abundantly clear to me.
Ironically, nature ratified this feeling soon enough. Dark clouds began to converge on both sides of the valley. It happened fast, and before I knew it, I was sandwiched between two budding thunderstorms. The one on the right would thunder first, and then a low rumble would come from the left. They were two distinct storms, and it appeared as though they were battling for dominance over the valley. I was no longer in that picture perfect painting – now I was in a race to find a place to pitch my tent before I got creamed.
Interestingly, left storm won the battle and claimed the valley. I camped on a ridge overlooking the lake, initially under budding right storm. I don’t know where it went, but it vanished and turned into gusts of wind as left storm moved in with lightning, thunder, and rain. The valley got drenched, but somehow I only got a little bit of rain. I think that the dissipating right storm provided just enough “counter wind” so as to keep the bulk of the left storm away from me.
I sat in my tent and watched the lightning ignite the sky like misbehaving moonbeams. The painting was markedly different now. It was not so calmly idyllic. It had been replaced by a more familiar natural violence. I was no stranger to thunderstorms, and though I’d like to say that I’m more comfortable with the beauty of living in the painting, I don’t think that is really true. I fell fast asleep in the electrified night, the moon seeking safety somewhere in the distant sky.
Day 81 – The Southbounders
Day miles: 25.9
Trip miles: 1623.5
Surprisingly, my tent wasn’t that wet when I awoke. The wind after the storm passed had done a decent job of keeping it dry, as well as sweeping the mosquitoes out from inside the vestibule. I had two more full days before I would be in Dubois, so I got moving fairly quickly.
The valley walk was soon over, and I started a long 6.8 mile climb up to Gunsight Pass. It was slow going initially. There were a lot of blowdowns across the trail, and I alternated between climbing over trees and stepping into boggy areas. The mosquitoes were vicious through this stretch, and I started to suspect that they had felled the trees across the trail to create feeding opportunities. Because the little vampires were restless, I was hiking at an incredible pace, but every time I slowed down to climb over a log, they were on me like flies on…. They were just on me like mosquitoes.
As I climbed higher I got some relief. At one point I realized I was staring at a male pronghorn that was quite close. Rather than run away from me, it stood there and made funny noises, almost like it was snickering. I filmed it as it ate, and then walked a bit farther down the hill. I saw a female pronghorn about a quarter mile down the hill, and then the male took off in that direction. I was so happy that he gave me a few moments before running off – it was different than the usual see-and-bolt reaction of a close encounter.
I finally made it up to Gunsight Pass and was rewarded with a view of the Tetons in the distance. I laid out my gear to dry and had a snack, staring at the lake down below. Someone had commented in FarOut that they had seen a grizzly by the lake. I was definitely in grizzly country, but it hadn’t really sunk in yet. I had seen no signs of bear since New Mexico where I had seen a black bear.
The rest of the day I spent hiking through somewhat overgrown meadows, occasionally through forest, by small ponds, over hills and through creeks. The meadows were quite overgrown in parts, with knee to crotch-high weeds. They offered expansive views of rolling hills, and sometimes mountains in the distance.
At one point, I paused to queue up a podcast and a voice came out of the shadows, making me jump. “Hallo!” It was an Australian woman who was hiking the CDT southbound. She was a park ranger back home in Tasmania, and was doing the CDT in two big sections over two years. Talking with her, I realized that a guy I had seen earlier in the day, as well as a couple of hikers in the Winds, were actually southbound thru-hikers! I didn’t realize I had reached the point in the hike where I would start to see SOBOs, but here I was.
We chatted for a bit and she gave me a handful of caramel corn, which I eagerly accepted and immediately ate like a ravenous hyena. It was a lovely little sugar boost.
I walked on with the knowledge that I might now potentially meet other CDTers from either direction.
The trail wove through more overgrown meadows and joined a dirt road through a pine forest. I saw a small flat spot encircled by thin pines, nice and dry with a needle bed, and jumped on it. I had camped in so many damp grassy areas that this spot was a dream. I smiled at my good fortune, cooked some food, and went to bed.
Day 82 – The Grizzly Haunt
Day miles: 27.8
Trip miles: 1651.3
I started the day with a spring in my step. I knew I would camp close to the road into Dubois, WY. I was a day and a hitchhike away from real food! This was a palpable driver, and my legs hurried along accordingly.
Most of the day was spent on forest roads, with some connecting trail. The connections were not always clear, especially where they crossed small creeks through thick brush, or made sharp turns where there was a pile of blowdowns. These junctions were like little puzzles that needed to be solved.
The morning passed, and then noon, but I didn’t really take breaks except to dip my water bottle into springs. As I was rounding a bend in a section of trail, I saw two hikers up ahead of me. They disappeared and reappeared until the trail hit a dirt road. I followed the road, the hikers out of sight, and watched as their fresh footprints in the loose dirt started to look a little funny. I realized I was staring at bear tracks. GIANT bear tracks. Grizzly tread.
All of a sudden, the reality that I was in grizzly bear territory finally sunk all the way in. These tracks were fresh, as in from today. They were also massive! I had never seen bear tracks that huge before. It was hard to take pictures of them with the sun at my back, but I snapped a photo of one of the smaller ones.
I proceeded slowly, and didn’t get far until I saw the other two hikers standing in the road staring down at the tracks as well. “Are you seeing these tracks?” They shouted over. “These are super fresh!” They, too, had been hit by the somber reality that we were walking on the grizzly bear version of Route 66.
We decided to walk together for a bit. I can’t remember their names, but the guy was from British Colombia and the girl from the UK. He was thru-hiking and she had met him to hike a section with him. They were pleasant company and we chatted as we walked through bear alley. We also saw two huge birds fly out of a tree. They mentioned that they might be sandhill cranes, though I am not sure. They did not sound or look like prey birds, but their wingspan was enormous.
We walked together until the bear signs were no more, and then I forged ahead. I was a man on a mission. I was ready to eat that town food, and therefore anxious to keep up a decent pace. The closer I got to the road into Dubois, the less I had to walk tomorrow.
The rest of the day was a series of forest roads, though fortunately free of grizzly tracks. I ended up camping right before the road into Dubois in a small clump of pine trees right off of a logging road. It was the perfect setup for a short jaunt to my morning hitching station. I ate all of the rest of my food before falling asleep to the dull sound of occasional cars passing on the highway below.
Day 83 – The Slovakian Lesson
Day miles: 0.2
Trip miles: 1651.5
I wasted no time getting packed up and to the highway in the morning. It was chilly out, and I was still cold with my rain jacket on. I thought I was going to have to try for a while before finally getting a ride. It was early on a Monday morning – not a great time to be thumbing for a ride.
To my surprise, in 15 to 20 minutes, a car pulled over. To my great surprise, in the vehicle was a college-aged solo female driver. This never happens! Young women in the US are pretty much schooled not to pick up middle-aged men off the side of the road.
She motioned for me to hop in. I was ecstatic that my ride did not cause me to remember the podcast I listened to about Ted Bundy. When she spoke, I detected an accent and asked where she was from. She was a medical student from Slovakia who was on a work exchange program in Dubois for the summer. These programs are pretty common in holiday towns across the US, and they frequently recruit young workers from Eastern Europe to work in stores, resorts, hotels, and other hospitality establishments. Her name was Monika and she was working at both a hotel and restaurant in Dubois.
She thought nothing of picking me up. Her response was a matter-of-fact “well, you needed a ride and I was going there anyway.” It blew my mind. In that moment though, I realized one of the sad truths about America. We are a nation of people who, generally speaking, live in fear of each other. Not only that, but our communities seem to be growing smaller and more exclusive, not larger and more inclusive. We look at hitch hikers and see risk; we don’t see an opportunity to help.
In some European countries, like Slovakia, villages and broader communities are more closely united. People aren’t afraid of each other, and their societies have more of a collective fabric that creates an atmosphere of social responsibility, rather than individualism.
The experience I had getting a hitch from Monika stood out so much because there was no awkwardness, no latent fear, no weirdness whatsoever. Pretty much every other hitch I have ever had carried at least 30 seconds of initial awkward conversation, where either I or the driver were testing the waters – was either one of us a psycho? Monika had a completely different frame of reference for hitch hikers. In Slovakia, it was expected that people would help where they could.
Anyway, this experience just drove home to me how much better we could be as a society here. All this living in fear of each other is insanity. When you experience a better way, it’s hard not to immediately realize the cost of the status quo.
Monika dropped me at her place of work in the center of town. I thanked her profusely and immediately went to the Cowboy Cafe to eat. The cafe is one of a few restaurants on the main strip in Dubois, and one of the main places to eat in town. There were a lot of people there and I ended up sitting next to and sharing my table with a group of bikers who were on their way to a huge rally in South Dakota. They were a cheerful bunch and didn’t seem to notice that I ate two breakfasts, along with a piece of pie with ice cream.
I spent the rest of the afternoon doing the usual hiker chores. I found a room at a great little place called the Black Bear. It was a motel but we’ll set up for hikers, with a cheery owner to boot. She only had a room for tonight, but I decided to take it and just hope for a cancellation tomorrow. I definitely wanted to zero and rest my leg muscles.
I did laundry, resupplied, and then started working out some logistics for the upcoming trail through Yellowstone and the Idaho border. Later that evening I ate pizza at Noon Shine across from the Cowboy Cafe. The Australian southbounder had told me it was good, though my pizza was burnt and not that great. Monika had said she worked there, so I picked up a few Wyoming post cards at the convenience store and gave them to the hostess there to give to her. I wanted to show my thanks and figured she could send them to her parents and friends in Slovakia. I told her it was a small gesture of thanks for the ride, but in reality, it was a thank you for giving me insight into a better way to live.
I spent the evening catching up on my journal and eating snacks. I was grateful for the comfort of town,the rest, and for a very full belly.
Day 84 – Dubois
Day miles: 0
Trip miles: 1651.5
Today was a typical zero day. I ate breakfast at the cowboy cafe, purchased food and mailed a box to Leadore, Idaho further up the trail, and worked out my logistics through Yellowstone. Backcountry permits are required for specific campsites in Yellowstone, so I reserved several sites and for all of that squared away.
I had some other logistical planning to do that I won’t go into here, and the rest of the day was spent eating and talking a bit with a hiker from Canada named Pilgrim. I met him first at Twin Lakes and bumped into him again yesterday at the laundromat. He’s a bit older than I am, perhaps in his early to mid 60s. We get on quite well. He hiked out this afternoon, so maybe I will see him down the trail.
I’ll keep today’s entry short as I just rest, but in the wake of the Slovakian lesson I wrote about yesterday, I must say that the town of Dubois strikes me as exactly the opposite of accepting and community building. Sure, it has the veneer of a friendly town – they want those tourism dollars. But behind that, the whole place just felt off, and “dug in” to me.
For example, I was trying to find a length of paracord so I can hang my food in Yellowstone, and I walked up to a gun shop I thought might have some. They had a sign on their window that said “If you were stupid enough to vote for Biden, don’t come inside,we don’t want your business.” What?!
Without getting political, that’s so offensive on so many levels. First of all, we’re supposed to be living in a country where you can vote for anyone you like, including Mickey Mouse if you want to. If that is a fundamental principle of our society, then why is it so bad if someone votes for a candidate you don’t support?
Second, wow – those people are horrible business persons. I don’t care who you vote for – if you want to purchase my products or services I’ll happily take your money. I may disagree with you politically, but to my first point, you have a right to disagree with me, and to this point, good business doesn’t align with politics – good business supports communities. I walked away from that place on principle, but it left me with the feeling that aggressive, immature, ignorant statements like that show the real fabric behind Dubois. I sure wouldn’t want to live in a place filled with people who think like this. I mean, I’m sure there are such mindsets back home in Wilmington, but at least the population there dilutes their impact. In a small town like Dubois it’s a powerful cloud of sulphur.
But hey, Dubois has what I need and I’m sure there are some good people here. It’s funny how extremes like the politically charged business and Slovakian Monika can find themselves coexisting. Sadly, only one is here to stay, and not the one I’d like.
The best thing I saw in Dubois was a trike bike with a dog sitting on the back under an umbrella. That dog seemed as happy as a clam. The owner said the dog showed up at his house and he started feeding it. He found out whose dog it was and they said he could have it. The rest was history.
I’ll hike out tomorrow morning. Next stop – Yellowstone! I’m pretty excited to see that section of the trail. After that it will be farewell to Wyoming and hello to Idaho and Montana!
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